


Of Golden Scarves and Pining Hearts

by ObsoleteAdjectives



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 5th year, Alternate Universe, Badass!Pansy, Cedric is alive, Cedric tries to set them up, Drarry, Fluff, Jealousy, M/M, Mutual Pining, Platonic Hedric, everything is cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 10:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7753702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsoleteAdjectives/pseuds/ObsoleteAdjectives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barty Crouch Jr.’s Portkey spell never took hold, and both Cedric and Harry won the Triwizard Tournament as a result. </p><p>In a world where Cedric is alive to see his final year at Hogwarts, Voldemort never came back, and Hermione and Ron got together, Draco’s priorities include keeping tabs on the Golden Trio and trying not to get jealous when Harry goes around Hogwarts wearing Cedric’s sweater. </p><p>-<br/>“Draco, would you give it a rest?”</p><p>“Flowers, Pansy!” Draco says emphatically. “She’s putting <i>flowers</i> in his hair!”<br/>-</p><p>Welcome to my Alternate Universe, starring a Hedric friendship, a Jealous!Draco, and the Golden Trio 2.0.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Golden Scarves and Pining Hearts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Thanks to Jan aka crookedroseswithbrowneyes on tumblr for trading headcanons with me, and for being the inspiration behind this fic. 
> 
> This fic is currently un-beta'ed and any mistakes that you notice are all mine. I'm sorry about that! 
> 
> According to the Harry Potter Wiki, Cedric would have had to be in his sixth year while competing in the Triwizard Tournament, and so I've imagined him to be a seventh year in this fic. Harry and Draco are fifth years, and Luna is a fourth year. Let me know if you have any questions!
> 
> I hope you like it!

A boisterous laugh rings in the air, startling Draco out of his thoughts. Sprawled under an elm tree on a rare sunny day in November, Draco lazily turns his head to find the source of the noise. He swears instantly, and shifts into an upright position. Pansy, who, up till that moment, was reading with her back against the tree trunk, looks up to find Draco grumbling at something, his expression cross. She rolls her eyes and makes to turn back to her book.

Draco, noticing her disinterest, lets out an exaggerated sigh, and Pansy rolls her eyes again before snapping her book shut. Evidently, she would not be reading until later.

“What is it now?” Pansy asks, barely managing to keep her tone even. _Play nice,_ she thinks to herself. _Draco is rarely cooperative when he’s defensive._

“The Golden Trio is at it again,” Draco sneers – it sounds suspiciously like he’s whining.

Pansy finally turns to see what has caught Draco’s interest. She sees that _is_ the Golden Trio, as Draco had labelled them at the start of the year. Harry Potter, the primary focus of Draco’s attention, is accompanied by Cedric Diggory and Luna Lovegood under a giant oak tree. They seem to be having a good time in the sun.

“You know he hasn’t got anyone else to be friends with,” Blaise pipes up, having stayed suspiciously quiet up till that moment, “now that Granger and the Weasel are shagging.”

“Please don’t speak of the Weasel and Granger shacking up, Blaise. It might trigger my gag reflex,” says Draco.

Blaise shrugs indifferently and says, “Doesn’t change that Potter and Diggory caught the last carriage to Hogwarts with Loony and became fast friends at the beginning of the year. Guess you can’t break that kind of bond.”

Draco chooses to ignore Blaise, who just closes his eyes and appears to fall back asleep instantly. Pansy looks at the sleeping boy with no small amount of envy before sharply saying, “Draco, would you give it a rest?”

“Flowers, Pansy!” Draco says emphatically. “She’s putting _flowers_ in his hair!”

“What Loony Lovegood does to Pretty Boy’s hair is really none of your business-,” Pansy starts to say.

She’s cut off by another round of raucous laughter from the Golden Trio. She sighs and opens her book again, knowing when she’s lost the battle. Draco can’t help but back around - only to see Lovegood sticking flowers in Diggory’s hair. Potter is grinning mischievously at Diggory, and seems to be saying something to him cheekily. All three of them are laughing until, suddenly, Diggory grabs dirt from underneath him and lobs it at Potter.

Potter looks shell-shocked for a moment, and then he promptly dives at Diggory. Both of them collapse a few feet away from Luna. They are both rolling around in the dirt, making absolute fools of themselves, while laughing their heads off. Lovegood appears to be watching them pensively. That is, until she jumps into the fray. The mock wrestle sees an immediate end as Lovegood climbs up on Potter’s back. The wind changes directions in that moment, and Lovegood’s voice carries over to where Draco is sprawled:

“I’ve always wanted a personal chariot!” Lovegood exclaims.

Her innocently enthusiastic statement causes all three of them to break into peals of laughter, and they collapse on the ground together from the weight of it. It takes them several moments to calm down – every time they meet each other’s eyes, they begin snickering again. Potter is clutching his stomach tightly, Diggory has tears streaming down his face, and Luna is grinning brilliantly.

The weather seems to be getting steadily chillier. After a few more moments on the ground, Potter and his new friends begin to stir. The sun glints off the gold threads in Potter’s house scarf as he wraps it tightly around his neck. The colour is glaringly similar to the hue of Diggory’s house shirt. Draco watches as Lovegood moves to stand in front of Diggory, her hair almost blending in with the colour of Diggory’s shirt. He is reminded of why he gave those three their name.  
  
_They are_ literally _the Golden Trio,_ Draco thinks bitingly as he sees them heading towards the castle.

* * *

The next time Draco sees the Golden Trio spending time together is when snow has begun to fall, and Hogwarts is a comfortingly stark white. Draco hadn’t realized that it was Potter at first – he had seen Diggory and Lovegood, sure, and had faintly recognized a shock of wild black hair. It had taken him a minute to realize that what had originally thrown him off was that Potter was wearing a golden-ish yellow sweater without a spot of red on it.

Pansy catches him staring again. “Ugh,” she says when she notices what has caught his attention, turning up her nose, “you’re right. Could they _get_ anymore incestuous?”

Draco’s tongue feels thick and heavy in his mouth, bile rises in his throat, and he can’t find the will to acknowledge her. Because he knows what she’s saying – the sweater is a part of Hogwarts’ school uniform – it just _isn’t meant for Gryffindors_. In fact, the ugly yellow sweater is a little too long, a little too baggy on Potter to belong to anyone apart from Cedric Diggory. Belatedly, Draco asks himself why he cares. But in that moment, all he sees is blinding red.

“Potter is so stupid,” Draco finally manages to say spitefully, his voice strangely choked. “It’s all for attention.

Draco can’t quiet the voice deep inside of him which whispers: _I wonder how he would look in green._

* * *

 

A week later finds Draco in the Slytherin common room. It’s after dinner, and he’s seated comfortably in the armchair closest to the fire. Blaise and Pansy are sitting across him on a settee. Blaise is picking at his nails, while Pansy examines the ends of her hair with a critical eye.

“Did you see Potter in the Great Hall today?” Draco asks, breaking the silence. “Just eating grapes for dinner? How pretentious. If he thinks he can get sympathy for himself by pretending to starve himself-”

A loud screech from across him halts what was about to become his long spiel about Potter’s stupidity and attention-seeking mania. Pansy had suddenly jumped up from the settee, pushing it back and causing the loud sound.

“Just do yourself a favour and shag him already, Draco!” Pansy shouts, crossing her arms tightly.

“Wha-a-?” Draco says, taken completely aback. “Shag who, you crazy bint?”

“ _Oh!_ ” Pansy throws her head back and laughs sarcastically before shrieking, “ _I’m_ the crazy bint? You’ve wanted to shag Potter ever since you met him! Don’t pretend you’re not completely head over heels for that tosser. You’re so in love that you try to pass off your concerns about his eating habits as a means to insult him! Get your head out of your ass – and put it in his, okay? I’m sure he’d appreciate it!”

By this point the entire Slytherin common room has turned to look at Draco and Pansy. Draco feels his face burning in the light of public humiliation. He stands up, and moves away from Pansy on shaky legs. He tries not to meet anyone’s eyes – he knows they are all boring into him, trying to figure out if Pansy’s words hold any truth to them.

His mortification does not stop him from slamming the entrance to the Slytherin common room shut behind him.

* * *

Draco is blundering forward, not quite noticing where he’s going, when he hears raised voices. He quickly ducks behind a suit of armour, unwilling to let anyone see him in his current state. As the voices continue on, it dawns on him that he knows who they belong to: Lovegood and Diggory – and it seems like they are lecturing Potter about something.

“You can do it, Harry,” Diggory is saying encouragingly. Diggory sounds like a clucking mother-hen, but Draco is immediately interested – the conversation appears to have potential to give him something to hold over Potter’s head, and to prove Pansy wrong.

“The worst that can happen in that he will laugh at you and then tell everyone,” says Lovegood in a placating voice.

Har- _Potter_ sounds exhausted as he sarcastically replies, “ _Gee_ , thanks Luna. That puts me at ease.”

“You’re welcome, Harry!” Lovegood says brightly. Draco can almost _hear_ her beaming. He rolls his eyes, hypothesizing that there is something wrong with her head.

“Man up, Harry. Do you want him or not?” Diggory says exasperatedly – sounding quite like Pansy as he does so.

Draco’s thoughts come to a screeching halt. Diggory and Lovegood had mentioned a “he.” Could it be possible – was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, Wonder Boy extraordinaire, a   _shirt-lifter?_  
Something pangs in Draco’s chest, and it’s accompanied by what he later deems to be a mental thought: _I want Potter to want me._

The instant Draco realizes what he has just thought, he panics and hastens to explain to himself that it’s for a diabolic reason. _I want him to want me so that I can laugh at him! Of course! And then I can embarrass him! Make his life miserable,_ he thinks decisively.

Except … he doesn’t want to do that. He wants Potter to want him – as simple and as terrifying as the thought is. He wants to be able to kiss Potter in front of people who will know without a doubt that Draco’s the only one Harry Potter will ever want.

Pansy’s words echo in his head, and Draco’s breath catches in his throat. He slumps to the floor quietly. The Golden Trio has long since gone away when Draco whispers to himself, “Fuck, I’m in love with Harry Potter.”

* * *

For the next two weeks, Draco skulks around the castle, trying to spy on the Golden Trio to figure out who Potter is in love with. He’s a Slytherin – stealth is what he’s best at. He leaves his friends behind because he’s still angry at Pansy (for being right), and he knows that Blaise wouldn’t help him without asking for something in return. Sometimes it was difficult being friends only with Slytherins.

There are moments when Draco fears that he’s not as stealthy as he gives himself credit for. Little things spark his suspicion: Diggory and Lovegood give him weird looks sometimes, and Potter seems to be glaring at him more intensely than usual.

Draco is following Potter from a safe distance after being let out of Potions on Tuesday afternoon. It’s quite routine – Potter is going to walk up the staircase, go up to the common room, and he’s going to stay there until something prompts him to move. The reasons ranged from Quidditch practice (which was quite often) to unfinished homework (the behaviour was mainly seen at late evening).

Strangely, Harry turns a sharp corner – it is completely out of ordinary and Draco is instantly intrigued. The tightening in his throat reminds him that he’s afraid Potter may be meeting with his secret crush. Draco turns the corner swiftly, afraid he’s lost Potter. The corridor is empty, and it’s a dead end.

Quite unexpectedly, the tapestry next to him sweeps aside and Potter bursts out.

“Looking for something?” he asks, his voice dangerous and low.

Draco is so caught off guard at the sudden sight of Potter that he can’t retort snidely as he usually does. Instead, he goes pink in the face, and drinks in the sight of Potter’s poised body in front of him. Potter’s piercing eyes, the slight sheen of sweat on his upper lip, and his bird’s nest of a hairstyle nearly does him in. He feels weak in the knees. How had he never appreciated Potter’s beauty? Potter was made to be admired, it seemed.

“Well?” Potter prompts Draco after a few moments of tense, awkward silence.

Draco finds his voice. “There’s no need for you to get your knickers in a twist, Potter. I shall spend my time and energy as I please.”

The reply is weak and unconvincing, and both Draco and Harry know it.

Potter’s eyes seem to brighten, and his pursed lips twitch slightly. He seems to be considering something. Potter suddenly speaks, “Will you spend your time and energy in the Quidditch pitch tonight?”

The hurried question takes Draco by surprise. “Wha-at?” Draco stutters. He curses his inability to speak intelligently.

But, it is Harry’s turn to blush. “Nothing. Forget I said anything. See you around, Dra- _Malfoy_.”

Before Draco can react, Harry is walking away hurriedly, and Draco can’t help but notice him shaking his head slightly.

“Did he just -?” Draco wonders out-loud. He can’t even find the strength to finish his question, so he simply leans against the wall behind him, and prays to Merlin.

* * *

 

It’s late in the night when Draco heads to dinner alone. He still can’t thinking about what happened with Potter. He had mulled over the conversation for hours, trying to make heads or tails of it. He had also taken the time to try and distract himself by wanking – but it had helped (especially when it had been Potter that he was imagining).

Funnily enough, Draco is a few steps behind Luna and Cedric as he makes his way. Wonder Boy is nowhere in sight. He hadn’t even tried to look for the Trio – he’d wanted to avoid them for as long as he needed in order to get over his embarrassment. He’d headed down at the last possible minute, and had been counting on everyone being done with their dinners by then.

“Yeah, he’s going to tire himself out,” Diggory is telling Lovegood as they walk slowly towards the Great Hall. Draco can’t help but notice that Diggory’s voice seems to be slightly louder than normal.

“I know he loves playing Quidditch, but he really doesn’t need to skip dinner just to _fly_ ,” Lovegood says. Again, Draco notices the oddness of her emphasis.

“Hmm, if only he had a _companion_ who’d keep him company in the cold and go to dinner with him,” Diggory says in his strange, high voice.

Draco’s lost in his thoughts, furiously contemplating the implications. It’s likely that Har- _Potter_ had ditched his Golden buddies to go on a date with his boyfriend. Draco screeches to a halt. Never has he wished to stop something from happening more than he does now. He clenches his teeth and swiftly spins on his heel, stalking off towards the Quidditch pitch. He’d be damned if another man got to go on a date with Harry fucking Potter.

 _If I can’t have him,_ Draco thinks savagely, _then neither can anyone else._

He is so incensed that he doesn’t even notice Luna and Cedric turning around and grinning at his retreating figure.

* * *

It isn’t difficult to make out Potter’s figure in the night. He is a vision as he flies - he summersaults, dives, and makes elaborate loops in the air without a trace of hesitation or sense of self-preservation. Draco can’t help but want to be pressed against Potter’s body as they fly together on the Firebolt. The thought makes him shiver with treacherous desire.

Draco had thought he would be hidden in the shadows as he watched Potter fly, waiting for Potter’s date to make his presence known. He just hadn’t count on his bad luck when it came to Potter. Potter spotted him almost instantly.

Potter lands lightly on the ground in front of Draco. To Draco’s surprise, Potter smiles at him.

“You came,” Potter says breathlessly.

“What?” Draco asks, feeling quite stupid indeed.

“This morning,” Potter says, his words rushed, “I asked you to come to the Quidditch pitch at night.”

Draco’s mind goes back to the conversation that he has already replayed hundreds of times in his head. Immediately, he’s indignant. “You call that ‘asking?’ Are you really as stupid as you look, Potter?”

Potter frowns deeply at Draco’s hostile tone. Draco hastens to say something that would make Potter smile brilliantly again. For some reason, Draco feels like he’d have lived a happy life if he saw that smile every day.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m here now. And … you’re a good flyer. I’ve never told you that, and maybe I should have. You’re a natural,” Draco says honestly. It’s the only thing he can think of.

Potter’s smile is like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. He steps closer to Draco – close enough that Draco’s beginning to wonder about the meaning of personal space. “Thank you. I could say the same about you.”

“No,” Draco says a bit abruptly. “No, you’re different. The way you fly … you should have been born with wings. It’s like the air is your home.”

As Draco says this, Potter steps even closer. He isn’t quite meeting Draco’s eyes – in fact his gaze seems to have slipped lower. _To my lips,_ Draco realizes a belatedly.

“I’m glad you came,” Potter says – his voice is low, almost a whisper. Draco tries to fight off his shiver at the words and fails. In the darkness, he feels hyperaware of his body, which is mere inches away from Potter’s.

“Me too,” Draco whispers, as if a louder sound would shatter the moment.

He doesn’t think that either of them moved, but in the next moment there is no space between them at all. Potter’s body is a furnace, and it is wrapping around him. Draco doesn’t know who moves first, but his lips are against Potter’s, and their tongues are entwined, and he’s never felt happier or more consumed by desire. Draco never imagined a kiss could feel so good, and yet here he is, and he’s wondering why he isn’t taking Potter right then and there because _damn_ he’s never wanted anything more in his life. His heart is thrumming like a hummingbird, and it’s beating Pot- _Harry’s_ name. _Har-ry Pot-ter. Har-ry Pot-ter._ He doesn’t want it to ever stop.

Draco reaches and tries to pull Potter closer to him but it’s futile – they’re pressed together and there isn’t even an inch of space between them. A thought strikes Draco out of nowhere: _Perhaps there was no boyfriend to begin with._ But Harry’s hand grabs Draco’s arse in that moment, and the thought is swiftly replaced by an undeniably primal _need._ Draco once again loses himself to the ecstasy of Potter’s kisses.

Moments later, when they’re out of breath and panting against each other’s skin, Harry moves a step back and unravels his scarf. Red faced, he hands it to Draco sheepishly, “It’s cold out here. Here, wear this.”

Slowly, Draco reaches out to grab the scarf – it’s deliciously warm. Draco wraps the scarf around his neck with a smile, and surreptitiously takes a whiff of Harry’s scent. Harry may not be wearing a Slytherin sweater (yet), but Draco sure is going to wear Harry’s scarf, and that is _even better_.

Draco thinks triumphantly to himself: _There might not have been a boyfriend before – but there certainly is one now._

* * *

Two days later, Harry and Draco walk, holding hands as they do, towards Cedric and Luna (Draco is trying to refer to them by their given names), who are sitting under a tree on the Hogwarts grounds. Someone has cleared the surrounding snow from the base of the tree, forming a perfectly dry, green circle for them to sit in.

As Draco sits down next to Harry, Cedric raises an inquisitive eyebrow. Luna, seemingly unfazed, continues to read her sparkly edition of The Quibbler.

“Don’t give me that look.” Draco sniffs in Cedric’s direction. “I know you two set me up that night.”

Cedric winks. “And it worked, too, didn’t it, mate?”

Draco pretends to frown, but he can’t keep up the charade when Harry tickles his side. He allows a grin to stretch his face, and leans over to kiss Harry on the cheek, before promptly smacking his hand away.

Draco concedes, “Yes, I guess it did.”

“Well, then, welcome to the club, Blondie,” Cedric says, and Luna looks up from her magazine at that moment to smile at Draco.

Draco just laughs, and grips Harry’s hand tightly.

~ _Fin_


End file.
